


Stiles Stilinski's Summer of Sexual Misadventures

by Triangulum



Series: Pack Sexual Adventures [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Sexual Situations, Daddy Kink, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: It starts with Stiles' diabetic fuck buddy the week before the college school year is over. His blood sugar drops mid-thrust and he freezes, yells, "JUICE!" before rolling off Stiles and sprinting buck naked down the hall. It kind of sets the tone for the sexual encounters Stiles has over the summer.OrA collection of Stiles' sexual misadventures with various pack members.





	1. Stiles/Peter and a Rat Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is going to have multiple pairings in the same universe. To make things simple, the whole pack is just sexually open and free, most of them having slept with each other at some point/are still sleeping with each other.

It starts with Stiles' diabetic fuck buddy the week before the school year is over. His blood sugar drops mid-thrust and he freezes, yells, "JUICE!" before rolling off Stiles and sprinting buck naked down the hall. It kind of sets the tone for the sexual encounters Stiles has over the summer.

Stiles' freshman year of college had been great to him. He hadn't left for Stanford a virgin, not with how much the pack likes to fool around, but he really came into his own at college. He'd fucked and been fucked by plenty of guys and girls, he'd learned a wide variety of oral techniques, and explored the world of toys now that he can legally buy them away from a town where everyone knows his dad. 

As much as he's loved all the sex he's had this year (and the learning!) he's ready to go home for summer break. His dad can't make it up to help him move, some big accident that's keeping him in Beacon Hills, so Peter ends up coming up with a Uhaul. He'd tried to hire movers, but Stiles had put his foot down. It's a tiny dorm room, maybe ten boxes total. 

Peter sneers a bit when he walks into the dorm. Which is fair, it is a bit messy. Stiles lives with three other guys, it's hard to keep things clean! The other three have class or finals today, so it's just Stiles and Peter. Stiles wants to get moving and get out of here before traffic picks up, but Peter seems to have other plans.

"What are you - oh!" Stiles says when Peter drops to his knees, undoing the front of Stiles' jeans. "I mean, I'm not gonna argue."

"I figured not," Peter says. 

Stiles is hard by the time Peter pulls his jeans down enough to free his cock. Peter hums in appreciation, as if he hadn't had Stiles naked under him over spring break. Stiles doesn't complain, especially not when Peter licks a stripe up his cock, swirling his tongue over the head before sucking him down. Stiles moans, grasping at Peter's shoulder for support.

It's not that his college fuck buddies are bad at giving head, not at all, but Peter does it like he loves it, making the most obscene noises and swallowing Stiles down as deep as he can. Peter digs his nails into the meat of Stiles' ass, taking him down his throat and moaning.

"Peter!" Stiles hisses, trying to keep his voice down so the people next door don't know what they're doing.

"Get on the bed for me," Peter murmurs. 

Stiles scrambles to obey, lying on his back in the middle of the twin XL mattress. It's a tough fit, neither of them are exactly short, but they make it work. Peter settles between Stiles' thighs, sucking his cock back into his mouth. He rubs a finger over the tight pucker of Stiles' entrance and Stiles' breath catches. They don't have time for this, not really, but Stiles has always sucked at time management.

Reaching under the bed, he comes up with the half-empty bottle of lube and shoves it into Peter's hands. Peter grins up at him like he's won a prize, and slicks up one finger, slowly pressing it into Stiles. Stiles throws his head back and groans as Peter brushes over his prostate, making his dick jump. The lube rolls off the bed and onto the floor when Stiles bucks up into Peter's mouth, crying out as he licks his tongue around the swollen head.

"Fetch me the lube, sweetheart," Peter says. "I need more of myself in you."

Stiles nods quickly, so on board with that idea, and reaches down to grab the lube. He thinks he almost reaches it, but hits something furry instead. Before he can pull his hand away, there's a sharp pain and Stiles shouts, "Fuck!", yanking his hand up. He just has time to see a huge rat scurry out from under his bed across the room to his roommate's dresser before processing the blood gushing from the bite on his finger.

Peter yanks his finger out of Stiles, which gives him a really confusing bolt of pleasure mixed with the pain in his hand, and jumps off the bed. Stiles' first aid kit is in the bathroom (he learned in high school to always have one) and Peter beelines for it before coming back with the case in his hands. He takes out a gauze pad and presses it over the bite, making Stiles cry out in pain. The blood soaks the pad quickly.

"Fuck!" Stiles says. "What the fuck?"

"It's pretty deep. You're going to need stitches," Peter says. 

"No," Stiles moans. "Why with the needles?"

"I'll hold your hand," Peter promises.

That's how an hour later, Stiles is sitting in the ER with Peter. Peter had bundled him into the Uhaul and they'd set off. They'd tried the student health center first, but the man at the front desk turned them right around and said to go to the ER, much to both of their annoyance.

It's not too busy, thankfully, so they get called back quickly, but Stiles is still sitting in the ER with a deep rat bite that needs stitches with lube seeping out of his ass. They end up making him get a tetanus shot, too. True to his word, Peter holds his hand at all times and takes what pain he can when the doctor isn't looking.

It's not the day he'd planned, but Peter doesn't make him load any of the boxes into the Uhaul when they get back to the dorm, so at least there's that. Stiles really hopes this isn't a sign of what the summer has to hold.

Peter's finishes blowing him before they leave, so at least there's that.


	2. Stiles/Kira and The Clapper

_My parents are going to be gone all night. Want to come over?_ the text from Kira reads.

Stiles sends back a _Hell yes. Be there in 20._

Stiles has been back from college for a little less than a week. His stitches from his rat bite were taken out earlier today with no sign of infection, thank fuck. So far, only he and Kira are home other than Derek and Peter, and that means he can spend some quality time between her thighs.

"Hey," Kira says when she answers the door. She kisses Stiles on the cheek and lets him inside. "How's the finger?"

"Stitches are out, so I'm happy," Stiles says. "I have to be careful with it for a bit."

"That's a shame," Kira says slyly. "Your fingers are always fun."

"Don't worry, I still have my right hand," Stiles says. 

Kira laughs and leans in, hugging Stiles tightly.

"I've missed you. What do you want for dinner? We have frozen pizza, uh, I think there's some leftover chicken and rice?" Kira asks.

"Pizza sounds good," Stiles says. 

The pizza only takes fifteen minutes to cook, so they don't have time to do much, but Kira ends up hopping up on the kitchen counter with Stiles standing between her legs. They lazily kiss while the pizza cooks, Stiles' hands sliding up under her shirt, caressing the her soft skin as he explores her mouth. The timer on the oven goes off and Stiles sighs, pressing a kiss to her throat before pulling away.

"Later," he says with a wink.

She laughs and straightens her shirt before hopping down off the counter to get them plates.

Stiles loves the Yukimuras' basement. It's small and cozy with a deep sectional couch and a huge TV. Her parents didn't want a television upstairs, neither of them particularly interested in watching it, so they set it up downstairs so Kira and her friends can hang out. It's been redone since Stiles has been down here, the walls now a light blue instead of plain white, and there's carpet instead of hard cement.

Stiles and Kira settle on the couch, pizza balanced on their laps, and Kira starts Iron Man. They've both seen it multiple times, but they're also well aware that they won't be paying much attention to the movie after they're done eating. 

Rhodey is just getting Tony out of the desert when Stiles puts his empty plate on the coffee table next to Kira's. He takes a big drink of water and takes the tic tac Kira offers him to get the taste of pizza out of his mouth, before turning and kissing her deeply. Kira moans, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and kissing him back enthusiastically. Stiles leans forward, pressing Kira back until she's lying on the couch, Stiles hovering over her. He runs a hand up the back of her shirt, flicking his fingers over the clasp of her bra to undo it. 

"You got good at that," Kira says with a giggle. Stiles grins and tugs her shirt up over her head, followed closely by her bra.

"I aim to please," Stiles says. 

Kira's laugh turns into a moan as Stiles lowers his mouth to her chest, sucking a hard little nipple into his mouth. Stiles loves playing with Kira's tits. She's so sensitive, so responsive when he plays with her, her nipples cute and dark pink. He massages the breast he doesn't have his mouth to, pinching and squeezing at her nipple the way that makes her back arch.

"Stiles," she sighs, tangling her hands in his hair.

Stiles just hums, taking her hard nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it until she's hissing, body squirming under his. Stiles grinds his hard cock against her, making Kira gasp and press her hips up against his.

"You're cruel," she groans. 

Stiles laughs and gives her nipple one last nip before pulling away the unbutton her shorts. Kira shimmies out of them quickly, tossing them to the side and yanking his shirt over his head. Stiles lets her undress him, just as eager as she is. He pulls her Marvel panties down her legs, exposing her wet cunt to him and Stiles groans, squeezing the base of his cock to keep from coming too quickly. 

Stiles spreads Kira's soft thighs and settles between them, glancing up at her and licking a line up her wet folds. Kira moans, cupping her breasts and flicking her fingers over her nipples. Stiles loves to tease Kira, loves how responsive she is under him, how desperate she gets. He nips and sucks at her labia before finally flicking his tongue over her clit, making her gasp. 

"Stiles," she moans. "Stiles, please."

Stiles hums against her clit, going back and forth between sucking the sensitive nub and quickly flicking his tongue over it. He traces a finger of his good, rat bite-free hand, up her soaking folds, easily slipping inside her. Kira's hips buck up when he crooks his finger, immediately finding her g-spot. He slips in another, pressing against it and sucking on her hard little clit until with a shriek, Kira's coming, cunt spasming around Stiles' fingers.

Stiles pulls back, pressing a kiss to her mound, before reaching over to fumble with his jeans on the ground for the condom in the pocket. He slides it down his cock and leans forward, parting her wet folds with the head of his cock. Kira sighs, running her hands up his sides as he slides into her, filling her tight little cunt. 

"Fuck," Stiles groans. "I forgot how good you feel."

"Same here," Kira says breathlessly. "Come on, fuck me."

Stiles starts slowly, taking the time to just enjoy the feeling of Kira's body under him. She's gorgeous, soft and delicate, but strong. Her sweet cunt squeezes around him as she clenches down, trying to urge him to speed up, but he wants this to last. He reaches between them, playing with her slippery clit, making her thighs tense.

"Please," Kira moans. "Stiles..."

Stiles gives in, never strong when she's begging him, and fucks her faster, an obscene, wet noise filling the room. His hands on her waist are tight, probably leaving bruises, but she's told him loves that. Kira grinds up into his thrusts, pressing her clit against his pelvis.

"Harder," Kira moans. "I can take it."

"I know you can," Stiles says. 

Stiles leans down and kisses her deeply, grinding his cock into her and making her squeal, before pulling back. He readjusts his grip on her waist and pulls out almost all the way, and thrusts back into her roughly, the skin-on-skin sound loud in the room. And the lights go off.

The both freeze. The room is still illuminated by the movie playing in the background, so Stiles can see the confusion on Kira's face easily.

"Uh..." Stiles says. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Kira says. "Maybe the lightbulb burned out?"'

"...Do you want to keep going?" Stiles asks.

"Yes!" Kira says, rolling her hips against his, making him groan. "I don't care if we have sex in the dark. Come on!"

"Okay, okay," Stiles says. 

Stiles rolls his hips, working up to a faster rhythm until he's slamming into Kira, her head thrown back as she cries out. Then the lights turn back on. Then off again. Then on. And off. All to the rhythm of Stiles' particularly hard thrusts.

"Okay, what the hell?" Stiles asks, stilling.

Kira bursts out laughing, which wow, feels really good around his cock. 

"Oh my god," she says, covering her mouth. "I forgot. My parents installed a clapper."

"...The lights that turn on and off when you clap? Why? It's 2017!" Stiles says.

"I don't know," Kira says, giggling. 

"All right, well, this is going to get really weird really fast," Stiles says. 

Stiles pulls back and thrusts into Kira, making her groan and wrap her hands around his wrists. He keeps his pace steady and fast, and every few thrusts, the sound of skin slapping skin will be just loud enough to turn the lights on or off. After a few minutes, despite how good it feels to be buried in her, they're both laughing too hard to continue.

"Fuck," Stiles says, collapsing forward and laughing into her neck.

Kira giggles and runs her hands up his sides.

"Here, roll over," Kira says.

Stiles does as she says, rolling until he's lying on his back. Kira straddles him and positions his cock at her entrance, slowly sinking down until he's filling her completely. They both groan, Kira bracing herself against his chest before she slowly starts to ride him. Stiles grips her waist, dragging his hands up her body until he's cupping her breasts, squeezing and pinching at her sensitive nipples.

Kira's bounces harder, fucking herself on Stiles' long cock, arching her back until she has an angle that makes her scream. The slapping sound of skin is quieter this way so the lights only flash occasionally, though Stiles hardly notices anymore. Kira's cunt is tightening around him, her moans getting higher and longer as she gets closer. 

Stiles reaches between their bodies and rubs his fingertips gently over her clit, making her spasm on top on him. He presses harder, letting her take her pleasure from him until with a cry, she clenches around him, shouting as she comes. Stiles fucks up into her through her orgasm, chasing his release until he's coming with a shout, cock buried deep inside her. 

Kira groans, collapsing forward onto his chest. Stiles claps to turn the lights back on, then wraps his arms around her, both of them catching their breath. They lie there for a while, basking in the afterglow, until Kira's body starts trembling.

"Hey," Stiles says, cupping her face. "Are you okay?"

Kira looks at him and bursts out laughing, body shaking with mirth. Stiles snorts and starts laughing too, flopping his head back onto the couch. 

"Oh my god," Kira says through her laughs. "We just had sex with a clapper light show."

"I can honestly say I've never done that before," Stiles says, running his hand up and down her back. "So, from now on, no sex in your basement."

"I don't know, I might bring Derek down here and see how long it takes him to figure out why the lights are turning on and off," Kira says. 

That just gets Stiles laughing harder.


	3. Stiles/Derek and the Jalapeno

Stiles knows Derek's excited to have the pack back from college. During the school year, it's just Derek, Peter, and the parents around and he misses having the loft full. He's hosting a pack night to celebrate having everyone back in Beacon Hills and Stiles comes over early to help him get everything ready. Well, partially to help. Partially Stiles misses Derek's dick and really, who wouldn't?

They actually do get things ready for a bit. Derek doesn't want to just pass around a plate of pizza rolls so he and Stiles spend some time in the kitchen. Stiles makes a mean lasagna and cuts veggies for a salad, while Derek whips up a tart for dessert and cuts jalapenos for his homemade jalapeno poppers that Stiles swears by. It's nice being able to cook in a kitchen that isn't shared with the entire dorm and Stiles revels in it. 

It's also nice to be able to drop to his knees for Derek again. Stiles backs Derek against the kitchen counter, sliding to the ground and unbuttoning his jeans. Derek sighs, wrapping his fingers in Stiles' hair as Stiles pulls out his cock. Derek is thick and uncut, one of Stiles' favorite dicks to suck. Stiles hasn't been able to have Derek since winter break and he's been looking forward to this. He licks a stripe up Derek's cock, opening his mouth wide to suck Derek down. Derek hisses, hand tightening in Stiles' hair. Stiles just hums, happy to let Derek tug as much as he wants.

Derek is heavy on Stiles' tongue, tasting just as good as Stiles had remembered. Derek lets out a breathy sigh as Stiles licks around the head of his cock the way he knows Derek loves. Any of the pack could walk in at any time, but it's nothing they haven't see before, so Stiles isn't worried. He licks and sucks, taking Derek as deep into his throat as he can, until Derek's hand is tightening in his hair and a second later, Derek is coming down his throat. Stiles hums and swallows as Derek's cock pulses in his mouth.

"Fuck, Stiles," Derek groans. thumbing at the wet corner of Stiles' mouth. "Get up here."

Derek tugs Stiles up, kissing him deeply like he's chasing the taste of himself from Stiles' tongue. He presses his hand against the front of Stiles' pants, making Stiles hiss and buck his hips forward. Derek wastes no time, pushing Stiles' shorts down his hips and wrapping his large hands around Stiles' cock. Stiles groans, leaning forward and resting his head on Derek's shoulder, watching his cock disappear in Derek's fist. 

"Fuck," Stiles moans. Derek's hands are talented, but this is more than that, this is... "Fuck, FUCK!" 

Stiles jerks back and Derek lets go, looking bewildered.

"Stiles?"

"Ow! Holy shit, that burns!" Stiles says. Derek's eyes are wide, hands out in front of him. "What the fuck?"

"I don't...oh!" Derek says, looking thunderstruck,

"What, 'oh'?" Stiles asks. His cock is stinging, no matter what he does. Pressure hurts, leaving it alone hurts, flapping air at it hurts, what the fuck?

Derek doesn't answer, instead he yanks open a kitchen drawer and pulls out a washcloth, wetting it under the faucet and handing it to Stiles. Stiles wraps it around his cock and the cool water helps a little, but it still feels like there's fire on his cock. It's almost like...Stiles' eyes snap to the cutting board where the remains of the cut jalapenos sit, to Derek's wide-eyed stare.

"Oh my god," Stiles moans. "Oh my god, you got jalapeno juice on my dick!"

"I am so sorry, Stiles!" Derek says. "I didn't think about washing my hands."

"Oh my god, I need your shower, right now," Stiles says.

He's sure he looks ridiculous, running through Derek's loft with his shorts around his thighs, a cool washrag wrapped around his limp, burning cock, but he doesn't care. Derek follows behind him, apologizing profusely. Stiles alternates between swearing and telling Derek it's fine. Derek starts the shower, keeping the water lukewarm since hot water definitely isn't going to feel good. Stiles shucks out of his clothes quickly and hops into the shower, groaning in relief as the water hits his cock.

"Stiles..." Derek says. "What can I do?"

"Wash your hands, oh my god," Stiles says. 

There's a rustling on the other side of the shower curtain, then the faucet starts and Stiles can hear Derek vigorously washing his hands. Stiles tunes it out, the stinging finally going down. The skin of his cock is a little red, but it's not swollen or anything like Stiles had been expecting. The lukewarm water and gentle soap Derek uses are helping, the pain receding to a simple dull ache. The shower curtain pulls back and Derek steps in behind Stiles.

"Ah ah, let me see your hands," Stiles says, turning around to face Derek. 

Derek, fucking gorgeous as always, sheepishly holds out his hands for Stiles' inspection. Stiles tries not to be distracted by Derek's chest and abs and thighs and...everything, really, and focuses on his hands. They're a little red from how hard Derek had scrubbed them and when Stiles takes a sniff, he can smell nothing but soap. 

"They pass inspection," Stiles says.

"I'm so sorry," Derek says.

"I know," Stiles says. He glances down his wet body. "I still don't think my dick's going to be up for anything tonight, though."

"Let me at least take your pain?" Derek says.

"Sure," Stiles says with a shrug. "There isn't much to take, though."

Derek still reaches forward, placing his hand on Stiles' hip. Immediately, the dull ache recedes, making Stiles sigh. He closes his eyes and leans forward, letting Derek take his weight. Derek wraps his arm around Stiles, pressing a kiss to his temple. His hand trails around Stiles' hip to trace between his cheeks, pressing over his damp hole. Stiles' breath hitches.

"I can make you feel good without using your cock," Derek murmurs, voice quiet over the spray of the shower. "Let me make you feel good?"

It's hard to think, especially with Derek's hard and wet body pressed against him, but Stiles can't think of a single reason why that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Okay," Stiles says.

"Mm, good," Derek murmurs against Stiles' ear.

The thing about Derek' shower is that it's well-equipped for sex. He has multiple handles installed so people don't try to hold onto the shower curtain rod and fall (Erica) and waterproof lube on the shower caddy under the shampoo. Stiles had laughed when he'd first seen it, but the first time Derek had fucked him in the shower had made Stiles a true believer.

Derek pours the lube over his finger and presses it against Stiles' hole, massaging the rim until Stiles groans, opening up under the pressure. Derek sinks inside slowly, letting Stiles get used to the thick intrusion before pressing against his prostate. Stiles whines, his cock filling as Derek rubs against his prostate over and over again. Stiles has always been sensitive this way, and it's more than possible for him to come just from having his prostate played with. It's also something Derek is very, very good at.

After just a few minutes, Derek's pressing another slick finger into Stiles, making him moan. His dick is hard and leaking between his legs, but he doesn't want to risk touching it, perfectly content to let Derek play with his hole instead.

"You're so good, Stiles," Derek murmurs, massaging Stiles' prostate firmly. Stiles keens, gripping at Derek's biceps. "So good for me. That's it, let me take care of you."

Stiles whines, legs shaking as he gets closer. Derek's arm around him is all that's keeping him upright. Derek's whispering a litany of praise to Stiles, telling him how perfect he is, how much he's missed him, how much he can't wait to watch him come. 

"I'm close," Stiles gasps. His body is coiling tight, ready for release.

"I know, such a good boy," Derek says. He presses harder on Stiles' prostate, making him shout. "Let me see you come, Stiles."

Stiles whines out Derek's name, trembling as he comes untouched, his cock spurting between them. His ass is clenching around Derek's fingers, drawing wave after wave of pleasure from him. Derek presses a kiss to Stiles' lips before he withdraws his fingers, making Stiles grumble. 

"Nooo, I don't have balance yet," Stiles says when Derek moves to step away.

Derek chuckles and keeps his arm tight around Stiles, rinsing the lube off of his hand under the shower spray.

"Am I forgiven?" Derek asks.

"You didn't need forgiveness, it was an accident," Stiles says. "But yeah, that was fucking amazing."

"Good," Derek says, kissing him again. "I'm going to go finish the food."

"I'll be out in a bit," Stiles says. 

Derek slaps Stiles' ass on his way out of the shower, making Stiles snort. Stiles finishing washing off, trying to get as much lube off of him as possible, before turning the shower off. Yeah, he's pretty sure his dick is down for the count tonight, but he at least got a bitchin' orgasm out of it. And he can still use his mouth.


	4. Stiles/Erica and the Ice Cream Truck

Stiles likes going to Erica's house. Her mom and her stepdad are hardly ever home and when they are, they pretty much leave Erica and Stiles to their own devices. They're happy enough that Erica has a steady stream of friends that they were a bit overbearing at first, but have learned to relax a bit. It also helps that they are completely ignorant of the fact that Stiles is sleeping with Erica. Well, that the pack is all sleeping with each other. In fact, they don't know anything of the supernatural at all. Stiles personally thinks Erica should probably let them in on the secret, but they're her parents, not his, so he keeps his opinion to himself. 

Erica is demanding, not that Stiles minds at all. As soon as she locks the door behind Stiles, she's pressing him against it, hungrily licking into his mouth. Stiles groans, kissing her back, his hand fisted in her thick hair. Erica moans when he uses his grip to tug her head to the side, baring her neck to him.

"What are you wanting tonight?" Stiles asks her, mouthing at her neck. 

It's a question he always asks, because with Erica it changes so often. Sometimes she wants to be in charge, pushing Stiles down and riding him until they're both seeing stars. Sometimes she wants to be taken care of, to have nothing expected of her at all. Sometimes she wants to be manhandled, to have Stiles push her into the mattress and fuck her until she screams.

Erica takes Stiles' free hand and brings it to her neck, guiding him to wrap his fingers around her throat. Her breath hitches when he applies a little bit of pressure. He isn't cutting off her air, but he's making her feel it it. 

"Rough, you in charge," Erica says, voice little harsh. Stiles tightens his grip on her hair, making her eyes flutter. "I want you to make me feel it."

Stiles squeezes his hand around her throat, making her whine, before letting go and stepping back. 

"Okay," he says. "Upstairs, on the bed for me. Strip, but don't touch yourself."

Erica grins and rushes upstairs to her room. Stiles gives her a bit of a head start before following at a more sedate pace. When he opens the door to Erica's room, she's done what he asked. Her sundress is on the floor by the bed and she's lying on the mattress. As soon as she sees Stiles, she lets let her fall open, showing off her smooth cunt.

Stiles closes the door behind him and hums as he circles the bed. Erica is much more comfortable than she was when they first started doing this. She used to still be unsure of herself, fighting not to cover her body and needing to let herself enjoy sex. After a lot of conversations and attention from Stiles and the rest of the pack, she's finally accepted that she's wanted, naked or not, sex or not, and that confidence has carried into the bedroom. 

Erica grins at him and bites her lip, excited. It's the first time they've had uninterrupted alone time in a while, and she looks just as happy about that as he is. Her body is soft and smooth, and Stiles' eyes linger on the length of her legs, the curve of her hips. She arches her back, putting her breasts on display for him. Stiles kneels, fully-clothed, on the bed between her legs, sliding his hands up her inner thighs. Erica spreads her legs wider, exposing her wet cunt to him. 

"Good girl," Stiles says, trailing a finger up her soaked slit. Erica whines, hips jerking up. Stiles sucks his finger into his mouth, licking off the taste of her, and hums.

Erica is a tempting sight, naked and beautiful against her blue and purple bedspread. Stiles tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, lowering himself to his elbows between her spread legs. 

"Please," Erica whimpers. "Stiles..."

Stiles presses a light kiss over her swollen clit, making her groan. It's easy to tease her, to just give her soft kitten licks that won't really get her off. She hates it and loves it, trying to grind against his face to get more friction, but Stiles doesn't give in, just keeps touching her lightly. But she tastes wonderful and that alone is what spurs Stiles on to eat her out in earnest, nosing between her folds and devouring her whole. Erica screams, hand twisting in his hair and trying to tug him closer. Stiles uses one hand to press her hips down, stilling her, before trailing a hand between her legs, pressing one long finger into her.

"Stiles!" Erica cries out when he crooks his finger in her, pressing against her g-spot. "Stiles, please!"

"I've got you," Stiles murmurs against her cunt.

Stiles slides another finger into her, making her keen and clench around him. She's getting wetter, her juices coating Stiles' fingers, taste exploding on his tongue. Stiles focuses on her clit as he crooks his fingers in her, wanting to get at least one orgasm out of her before he fucks her. Erica's moans are getting louder and Stiles can feel the tension in her body as she tries to stay still under him, but she can't help it soon, undulating her hips with his tongue's movements. 

Erica starts chanting Stiles' name, whining that she's going to come. He doesn't let up, fucking her harder with his fingers and closing his lips around her clit. He alternates between suckling and flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub, drawing her closer and closer to pleasure's edge. Erica's whining above him, high and needy, and with a shout, comes with a gush of fluids, screaming his name. Stiles doesn't stop, keeps his tongue pressed to her clit and his fingers inside her until it's too much and she's pulling away.

"Fuck," Erica groans, eyes closed. "I forgot how good you are at that."

"I don't know if that's praise, or shit talking that my mouth isn't that memorable," Stiles says.

"Shut up," Erica says with a laugh. "You know what I meant."

"Uh huh," Stiles says. He stands up and pats her thigh. "Come on, on your hands and knees."

Erica hurries to obey, turning over and presenting her dripping cunt to him. Stiles looks his fill while he takes off his jeans and boxers, dropping them to the floor next to Erica's sundress. Her cunt is soaked, a wet spot between her knees and Stiles loves it, loves how messy and desperate she gets. He presses two fingers into her, testing how tight she is and making her moan, before pulling back. The condom in his jeans pocket goes on quickly, then he's kneeling behind her, pressing the head of his cock against her opening. 

"Rough?" he verifies.

"Rough," Erica says. 

"Good girl," Stiles says, and slams into her. 

Erica screams, throwing her head back. Stiles doesn't give her time to adjust, instead starting a punishing pace that is forcing gasps from Erica, making her claw at the bedspread. He loves fucking her like this, almost as much as she loves it. They both get off on the fact that Stiles, the human, is able to use Erica, the werewolf, so roughly, that he can play with her body and make her come over and over. That even though she's physically stronger, she can still submit to him. 

Bruises sprout and heal under Stiles' fingertips at her waist. The sound of wet skin on skin is loud, but not as loud as Erica. With no one else home, she screams for him, collapsing to her chest with her ass in the air as he fucks her hard. She worms a hand underneath her, rubbing at her clit, and Stiles speeds up, wanting her to get off with his cock inside her. She's getting close, her body tensing around him, pulling Stiles close to the edge too, when she perks up, head swinging toward the window. 

"Wait!" Erica says.

Stiles freezes.

"Are you okay? Is someone here?" Stiles asks.

Erica doesn't answer, but leans forward until he's slipping out of her hot cunt. She rolls off the bed and yanks her sundress off of the ground, throwing it on over her head. Stiles is about to ask her what's going on again, then he hears it. The telltale jingle of the ice cream truck. 

Stiles groans, flopping back onto the bed. He hears the front door open and close and a few seconds later, Stiles can see Erica running out to the curb barefoot through the crack in the bedroom drapes. She just catches the truck and Stiles would be happy for her if it weren't for the fact that he has a very pressing problem between his legs at the moment. Erica's feet disappear from view outside of the window and a few moments later she's coming back in the bedroom. She has a Powerpuff Girls ice cream bar and looks immensely pleased with herself. 

"Sorry, I've been listening for the truck all day," Erica says.

"Uh huh," Stiles says, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh don't be grumpy, I got you one, too," Erica says, tossing a wrapped ice cream bar at him. "We can finish fucking after an ice cream break."

"You're riding me," Stiles says, pointing the ice cream bar at her. "You ran out mid-sex, I did my duty."

"Yeah, yeah, your life is so hard," Erica says. She slips out of the sundress and lies naked next to him on the bed. It's a very confusing message while she's eating ice cream that looks like a cartoon's face.

"Something _was_ hard," Stiles says, looking down at his wilting erection. 

"Oh my god, you big baby, we have all day," Erica says with a laugh, elbowing him. "Eat your ice cream before it melts."

Stiles grumbles but does as she says, unwrapping the ice cream bar shaped like Blossom. One of the gumballs that makes her eyes is in the middle of her cheek. 

"See, it's hard to be in a bad mood with ice cream," Erica says.

Which is true. He's not actually that annoyed. He's going to have a day of sex with a hot girl who runs out of the house with lube and her own slick dripping down her thighs to buy them ice cream; things could definitely be worse. 

Though he meant it, she's so riding him for this. 

"Thank you for the ice cream," Stiles says, taking a bite of out Blossom's head.

"You're welcome," Erica says. "Thank you for the orgasm. I promise to give you one soon."

Stiles just snorts and takes another bite.


	5. Stiles/Peter and Puma Thurman

One of the developments that happened while Stiles was away at college is that Peter got a cat. Peter. Got a cat. She's a small calico named Puma (Puma Thurman) and she adores Peter. 

"How is it possible that I didn't know about this?" Stiles asks. He's lying on his stomach on Peter's plush rug, dragging a little toy mouse on a string for Puma to pounce on. "You text me every single moment of you life. I know what coffee you had everyday for two months, but you never thought to tell me you got a cat?"

"I thought seeing your face would be much more rewarding," Peter says with a shrug. "And I was right."

"I thought cats hated werewolves?" Stiles asks.

"Most do," Peter says. "But Puma's mom was the cat of a werewolf and she's been around weres since she was born. So she doesn't have the same fear that most animals do."

"That's handy," Stiles says. Peter picks Puma up from in front of Stiles, earning him an affronted, "Hey!"

"Plus," Peter says, holding Puma up to nuzzle her. "Aren't I just an adorable cat dad?"

"You're fifty shades of fucking ridiculous," Stiles says. "Now come on, you promised to fuck me through the mattress."

"I guess I did," Peter says. He sets Puma down and she immediately goes back to playing with the toy mouse. 

Stiles follows Peter to his bedroom and closes the bedroom door behind them, making sure Puma is still in the living room, before he pounces on Peter. Last time, their sex had been rudely interrupted with a rat bite and Stiles doesn't want any more animal-related sex accidents. 

"She's a cat," Peter says. "Do you really think a door is going to stop her?"

"She needs to respect her cat dad's boundaries," Stiles says, kissing Peter. "And not watch him bone."

"Good luck with that," Peter says. 

"Oh my god, stop talking," Stiles says.

Peter kisses him instead, tugging Stiles to him. Stiles goes with it easily. Peter's always been great about manhandling him exactly the way he likes. It's something that's hard to get with his fuck buddies at college, someone as strong and able to read him as well as Peter can. Someone who can hold him down just right, and that Stiles trusts to do so. Sex with werewolves has kind of ruined him for the humans at his college.

Peter undresses him slowly, paying attention to every inch of skin as it's revealed. He sucks marks all over Stiles' chest and neck, and Stiles would accuse him of being a possessive fucker, but he knows it's something Peter does with all the pack. 

Their clothes end up scattered on the bedroom floor, which is probably annoying Peter to no end, but he doesn't say anything, just presses Stiles into the mattress, licking and sucking his way down Stiles' body. Stiles sighs happily, letting Peter play with him as much as he wants. They have time, much more time than they did with a speedy handjob at his dorm.

Peter opens Stiles up slowly, sucking marks into Stiles' inner thighs as he plays with his wet hole. Stiles whines, begging Peter for more, to touch his cock, _something_. Peter just smirks and adds another finger, occasionally brushing over his prostate.

"You're a cruel man," Stiles grits out when he reaches for his cock and Peter bat away his hands.

"And yet you always end up in my bed," Peter says with a grin.

He's up to three fingers, making Stiles whine and writhe. Peter's fingers are so much thicker than his own and fuck, he loves it. Peter spreads his fingers wide, making Stiles gasp and grip at Peter's wrist. 

"Okay, I'm ready, come on, fuck me," Stiles says.

"Not yet," Peter says, pressing a fourth finger into him.

Stiles groans, arching his back and pressing down on Peter's hand. He's so full and Peter hasn't even given him his cock yet. The more he curses and begs, the happier Peter is, twisting his fingers around inside him, once in a while pressing a kiss to Stiles' hard cock. 

"You're the worst," Stiles groans.

"You love it," Peter says.

Which is true, but Stiles needs Peter to fuck him, needs to feel that thick cock filling him up. Peter finally deems him ready and withdraws his fingers, making Stiles groan. Peter slicks up his cock and presses it against Stiles' hole, soft and open from so much attention. Peter nudges forward a bit, stretching Stiles around the head of his cock, then pulling back. He does it again, just moving forward until the tip is popping through the ring of muscle, before withdrawing.

"Oh my god, I'm going to kill you," Stiles groans.

"No need for that, sweetheart," Peter says. He flexes his hips and thrusts forward, burying himself inside Stiles and making him scream. "There we go."

Peter starts slowly, with simple rolls of the hips designed to please, but not enough to get either of them off. Stiles goes with it, just happy to be filled by Peter. The drag over his prostate is wonderful, making Stiles' dick jump in pleasure whenever Peter's cock brushes against it. 

"That's it," Peter murmurs, leaning forward and nosing at Stiles' neck. "Such a good boy for me. Taking me so well."

It doesn't matter how many times Stiles has heard the words, they still make something deep in him clench in desire. They still turn him into a whining, desperate little thing. He claws at Peter's back, urging him forward, trying to get Peter to fuck him faster.

Peter obliges, speeding him his thrusts. Stiles lets out breathy little gasps, hips meeting Peter's thrusts. The room reeks of sweat and sex and _them_. Stiles is so lost in the pleasure that he doesn't notice the bedroom door open. He does notice when Peter startles, stilling inside him.

"What?" Stiles asks.

"Stop it," Peter says. 

Stiles thinks Peter's talking to him, but then Peter bats his hand behind him and Stiles can hear a jingle. The jingle of Puma Thurman's collar.

"Oh my god," Stiles says.

Peter pushes the cat away, but a second later she's darting back behind Peter. Then Stiles can feel it. Puma batting at Peter's balls. Thankfully, the claws are away, but there are still furry paws hitting Peter's testes and bumping into Stiles'.

"Oh my _god,_ " Stiles groans, covering his face with his hands. "She learned how to open doors?"

"I told you it wouldn't keep her out," Peter says.

Peter pulls out, making Stiles whine at the loss, and scoops up Puma, taking her out of the room. He comes back a few minutes later, closing the door behind him. 

"I locked her in the bathroom," Peter says. "That should keep her for a while."

"This is ridiculous, I'm being cock blocked by a cat," Stiles says.

"Not cock blocked," Peter says, sliding back into Stiles' puffy hole. Stiles keens, gripping at Peter's arms. "Just momentarily delayed."

Stiles doesn't answer, just arches his back into Peter's thrusts. Peter's tempo is faster now, whether it's because he's getting closer or because he wants to finish before another interruption, Stiles isn't sure, but he certainly isn't complaining. Peter tilts Stiles' hips up and Stiles screams, the new angle amazing for his prostate.

"That's it, come on my cock," Peter hisses. 

His hands on Stiles' hips are tight as he pounds into him, chasing his release. Stiles grips his cock, stroking quickly. He wants to come with Peter inside him, wants to clench down around his fat dick until he's shrieking in pleasure. No one can fill him up quite like Peter can, can read him as well. 

Stiles is close, tension filling his body as the pleasure builds. Peter slams into him and grinds his hips, rubbing over his prostate and that does it. Stiles comes shouting Peter's name, his hole spasming around Peter's cock. Peter growls and brutally fucks him through it, chasing his own orgasm. Stiles doesn't mind, loving the harsh thrusts and low grunts. 

Peter stills a few moments later, teeth buried in Stiles' throat as he comes, thick cock flexing as he unloads deep inside of Stiles. Stiles hums, satisfied, and runs his hands up and down Peter's back. Peter laps at the mark he left on Stiles throat, rumbling low in his throat. He rolls to the side, tugging Stiles with him until he's splayed over Peter's chest, their legs tangled together. Peter's come is leaking out of Stiles onto Peter's thigh, but neither of them are inclined to move.

"Fuck," Stiles says when his breath is finally back to normal. 

"Mmhmm," Peter hums, nuzzling at Stiles' temple.

Peter gets like this sometimes after sex, very non-verbal, preferring to just touch and scent Stiles. Stiles is absolutely fine with it, more than happy to let Peter trail hands over his body, rub his scent into Stiles' skin. 

They lie like that for a while, enjoying the post-coital haze, until there's a thump outside the bedroom door. Stiles glances up just in time to see the door handle turn and the door slowly swing open, Puma Thurman hanging by her little paws from the handle. 

"You should have named your cat after Houdini. Or Parker from Leverage," Stiles says. Peter just grumbles against Stiles' throat.

Puma leaps onto the bed, climbing over their bodies until she's next to Peter's head. She turns a few times, claws at the pillow, before curling up against the back of Peter's neck, purring contentedly. Stiles coos.

"She's a menace," Peter grumbles.

"She's adorable and you love her," Stiles says.

Peter just nips at his neck.


	6. Stiles/Chris and the Text Notification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has some daddy kink!

Stiles loves getting fucked by Chris Argent. He loves how those large, gun-calloused hands slide over his skin. He loves how Chris can transition from gentle, sweet sex, to brutal, harsh fucking. He loves how easy it is to slip into calling Chris Daddy.

The house is empty except for the two of them. Stiles had come over earlier with a bag of scones from Chris' favorite bakery (Chris can deny it all he wants, but Stiles knows about his secret sweet tooth). Chris has been teaching Stiles how to use various weapons. Stiles is decent with a handgun, but Chris wants him to be able to use anything. Shotgun, rifle, crossbow, Chris wants to train Stiles to at least be proficient in all so if push comes to shove, he can defend himself with whatever is near him.

At least, it starts with weapons training. It devolves quickly into heated kisses and wandering hands because Chris has yet to find a way to keep Stiles focused. (Stiles maintains that he's absolutely focus, his focus just happens to be on how fucking hot Chris is.) 

Chris takes Stiles to the ground, cushioning his fall onto the practice mat, and knocking away his wooden training knife. 

"You're getting better," Chris says, his body pressing Stiles' into the ground.

"I still suck," Stiles says.

"Less than when you started."

Stiles snorts. "So kind. Between you and Peter, my ego may never recover," Stiles says.

"Please," Chris says, trailing his fingers down Stiles' face until he's cupping his cheek. "As if you don't know he and I adore you."

Stiles blushes. He does know that, but it still gives him a little thrill to hear it. Chris chuckles and pulls back, but Stiles wraps his legs around Chris' waist and twists to the side, flipping them so Chris is on his back with Stiles straddling him. Chris' hands immediately rest on Stiles' waist, thumb brushing under the hem of Stiles' shirt.

"You're here to practice," Chris reminds him, but he makes no move to get out from under Stiles, though they both know he easily could. 

"I will," Stiles says. He slips his hands up the bottom of Chris' shirt, running them up the hard lines of his torso. "Later."

"I let you get away with murder," Chris grumbles, but his words are cut off with a little hitch in his breath when Stiles' finger brushes his nipple.

"I mean, you would," Stiles says. "You'd help me hide the bodies if I asked."

"Of course," Chris says. His hands wander high up Stiles' shirt, tracing rough palms up his sides. "Is this your way of buttering me up to ask me?"

Stiles laughs. "No, this is my way of trying to get in your pants," Stiles says. "Is it working?"

Chris shrugs as well as he can on his back, and grinds his half hard cock up against Stiles', making his breath catch. 

"I don't know," Chris says. "Try harder."

"Ass," Stiles says with a laugh, pinching his nipple. 

Without warning, Chris rolls them, one hand on the back on Stiles' head to keep it from hitting the ground. Stiles gasps and a second later, Chris is kissing him, his tongue licking into Stiles' mouth. Stiles moans, kissing him back. Chris is by far one of the best kissers Stiles has ever had the pleasure of knowing. The perfect amount of pressure, his passion, the way he devours Stiles until he’s breathless and panting.

"I thought you said no more fucking on the practice mats?" Stiles says. 

"Who says I'm going to fuck you?" Chris asks, mouthing at Stiles' neck. 

Stiles groans. "You tease," Stiles says. He rocks his hips up, grinding his hard cock against Chris'. "Do you need me to ask nicely? Beg you to please fuck me, Daddy?"

Chris bites down on Stiles' neck, right over the bruise leftover from Peter. Stiles whines, nails digging into the meat of Chris' back. Chris licks over the bite soothingly, and Stiles thinks he's spent a little too much time with Peter lately, but he loves the attention so he isn't going to argue.

"Such a brat," Chris says. "I thought you wanted to be a good boy for me?"

Stiles' breath catches. He nods, looking up at Chris with wide eyes. "I do. Please, Daddy..."

Chris just hums, tracing fingers over Stiles' lips. Stiles wants to flick his tongue out and lick him, but he refrains. 

"All right, little one," Chris says finally. "Upstairs."

Chris stands and offers Stiles a hand up off the floor. Stiles takes it, and still wobbles a bit getting to his feet. The training room is in the basement of the Argent house, so Stiles has to walk up two separate flights of stairs with his gym shorts tented to get to Chris' room. Chris closes and locks the door behind them out of habit, even though Allison is away with Lydia for the weekend. 

"Strip for me, baby," Chris says. 

Stiles does as he's told, a bolt of heat lancing through him like it always does when Chris orders him around. He shrugs out of his shirt and drops it to the floor before kicking off his socks and shoes. Stiles doesn't try to be sexy with it, mostly because he knows he'll fail, and just slides his shorts and boxers off, letting them pool at his feet. There's something exceptionally vulnerable about being completely naked, especially when his partner is fully dressed. 

Sometimes this is how Chris will fuck him, Stiles nude while Chris is still fully clothed, only lowering his fly to free his cock, the denim of his jeans rubbing Stiles' ass and thighs raw. Not today, though. He orders Stiles onto the bed and Stiles complies, lying on his back to watch Chris strip. Chris doesn't put on a show about it, but it's still completely sexy to watch. He's compact and fit, his muscled torso and arms showing just how much effort he puts into his body. Stiles licks his lips when Chris' pants come off, staring at his cock. He's not quite as thick as Peter, but he's longer, and hits Stiles' prostate perfectly. 

Stiles props himself up on his elbows to watch Chris crawl onto the bed. Stiles wants to move down, to lick up Chris' cock and feel the weight of him is his mouth, but his Daddy had told him to lie on the bed, so he's staying where he is, no matter how hard it is. Chris smirks down at him, like he knows exactly what Stiles' struggle is, and taps Stiles' hip.

"Hands and knees, baby," Chris says.

Stiles scrambles to obey, turning over and presenting himself to Chris. He manages not to jump when Chris runs a hand up the back of his thigh, stopping to smack his ass, then smooth up his lower back. Chris parts Stiles' cheeks, exposing his hole to his gaze. Stiles fights not to blush, but he can feel his face turning red. 

"Hold yourself open for me," Chris says. 

Stiles leans forward, his chest on the bed, and reaches back, pulling his cheeks apart. Chris' weight shifts on the bed, but Stiles can't see what he's doing. It's only when he hears the click of the bottle of lube being opened that he knows what Chris is about to do. 

"Next time, clean yourself out really well and I'll rim you until you cry," Chris says. Stiles' dick jumps. "For now, this will have to do."

Stiles doesn't have any time to prepare before Chris' slick finger is circling his hole. He doesn't press in right away, but massages gently, coaxing the muscle to open up and let him in. Stiles whines, hard cock dripping between his thighs. Chris can be even more of a tease than Peter when the mood hits him. And baring his neck or any of the other tricks to entice werewolves don't work on him, so Stiles just has to take it and beg for more. 

Finally, Chris slides his finger in, making Stiles groan in satisfaction. It's easy, his hole is being well-fucked this summer, but Chris still only gives him one, patiently curling his finger against his prostate, slowly fucking it in and out of him. Stiles whines, trying to press back against Chris for more, but he has no leverage and he knows better than to let go of his ass. Chris finally takes pity on him though, and adds another finger. He avoids Stiles' prostate this time, just scissoring his fingers, opening Stiles up more.

Chris is so good at this, and teasing and drawing it out. It's very rarely a quick fuck with him, unless they're very desperate or very pressed for time. Chris likes to make sure his lovers remember him. Stiles is pretty sure that he, Derek, and Peter are the only ones in the pack Chris is sleeping with, the only ones who have been lucky enough to experience this. 

"Please," Stiles whines. "I need your cock, Daddy. Please."

"So needy," Chris says. He sinks his teeth into the meat of Stiles' ass, making Stiles jump, but he keeps his hands in place. "My needy boy."

Stiles whines wordlessly as Chris presses another finger into him. Chris rubs over Stiles' prostate, earning little whimpers as Stiles tries so hard not to let go, to keep himself spread open for Chris. Chris presses his fingers in as deep as he can and Stiles lets out a choked of moan, ass clenching around him. Then he's pulling his fingers free, leaving Stiles slick and empty. Stiles makes a small, wounded sound without meaning to, making Chris chuckle.

"Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you need," Chris says. "You can move your hands."

Stiles takes his hands back, getting his elbows underneath him for better balance as Chris presses the head of his cock to Stiles' loose hole. Stiles doesn't push back, though he wants to. He waits for Chris to slowly push his way inside, sheathing that long cock deep inside him. 

Chris barely gives Stiles a second to adjust, not the he needs it, before he's pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in. Chris' grip on his hips is tight, those rough hands pulling him back onto his cock. Stiles is making small, helpless noises that he would normally be embarrassed about, but right now all he wants is Chris to fuck him harder, for his Daddy to know exactly how much he loves this.

"Good boy," Chris grunts out, fucking into Stiles faster. "Such a good boy for me."

Stiles is so fucking hard, but Daddy hasn't given him permission to touch himself yet, so he holds back. He wants to, though. He desperately wants to wrap a hand around his cock, to come with Chris filling him up. Sometimes he can come like this, with just his prostate being nailed over and over, but he doesn't think now is one of those times. 

"Daddy," Stiles moans, arching his back more. 

Chris' thrusts are getting faster, his grunts louder and less restrained. 

"Touch yourself, baby," Chris says. "Touch your pretty cock."

Stiles immediately gets a hand between his legs, wrapping his fingers around his leaking erection. He strokes quickly, wanting to feel Chris fuck him through his orgasm. He's close, so close. 

Then he hears his phone buzz from the floor. A split second later, a nasally British voice says, _"Smashing!"_

They both freeze, Chris buried deep in Stiles. Stiles giggles, trying hard to keep it in, but he can't help it. 

"Stiles. What's that?" Chris asks.

"My text notification, I forgot I changed it to Nigel Thornberry," Stiles says, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "I'm sorry, ignore it."

"Okay..." Chris says slowly. 

Chris rotates his hips, grinding his cock inside Stiles, making him groan and forget all about the text. His erection hadn't gone down, and Stiles is still close to the edge. Chris slaps Stiles' ass, making his yelp and tighten around his cock. It's so fucking good, having Chris fuck him like this. Having his Daddy take care of him.

_"Smashing!"_

_"Smashing!"_

_"Smashing!"_

_"Smashing!"_

_"Smashing!"_

The texts come one after the other and Stiles can't help it, he collapses forward laughing. Stiles' ass contracts when he laughs, making Chris hiss and tighten his grip on Stiles' waist.

"Oh god, don't do that," Chris says.

Stiles tries, he really does, but then he's bursting out into laughter, his whole body shaking with it. Chris tries to pull out, but suddenly Stiles can feel his cock flexing inside of him as he comes, unloading deep in Stiles, brought to orgasm by the laughter-induced spasming of Stiles' ass. Stiles laughs even harder, even as Chris groans out his release. Chris pulls out, collapsing to the side and staring at Stiles.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says, tears in his eyes. "I forgot to put my phone on silent."

"That was the most bizarre orgasm I've ever had," Chris says.

That just sets Stiles off more. He collapses onto his side, body shaking as he laughs. 

"Oh my god," Stiles says, gasping for breath. Chris looks amused at least and not angry.

"Did you want to come still, or is this pleasure enough for you?" Chris asks.

"I want to come," Stiles says. His cock is still hard, though he’s not as desperate as he'd been a few minutes ago. 

"Good," Chris says. 

Chris takes Stiles cock in his hand, gripping him tightly. Stiles bucks up into the touch, breath harsh as Chris strokes him. He even manages to mostly ignore the urge to giggle, forcing thoughts of Nigel Thornberry out of his head and wow, not something he ever thought he'd have to do. Chris flicks his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precome and making Stiles whimper. It's when Chris nips at his ear and hisses, "Come for me, baby boy," that Stiles comes, cock spurting white over Chris' knuckles. Chris works him through it until it's just this side of too much, then he just lies with Stiles as they catch their breath from the weirdest sex session they've ever had.

_"Smashing!"_


	7. Stiles/Lydia and Edible Panties

A year or so ago, if someone would have told Stiles that he'd be regularly having sex with Lydia Martin, he would have laughed at them. Because yeah, his crush on her is long gone, but he's still very aware of how gorgeous and unattainable she is to someone like him. That is, until the pack started their whole sexually liberated adventure and she'd shown up on his doorstep, demanding to ride his face because she had a hunch that his mouth was made for it. 

She'd come three times: once riding his face, once on her back with his mouth buried between her thighs, and once with his long fingers curled up inside her, pressing on her g-spot until she'd squirted all over his sheets. She'd lain back on his bed, desperately trying to catch her breath, before turning her eyes to him and telling him, "We are doing that again."

And they had. Stiles has lost count of how many times he's fucked her or had his mouth between her legs. Whenever they're both in Beacon Hills, or when she came to visit him at college when she'd been nearby, they always make sure to have some time for each other. It's early enough in the summer that he hasn't had a chance to see her yet, though. Lydia had gotten back late from college, then her and Allison had gone down to LA for a long weekend, so Stiles has been home for two weeks before he ends up at her house.

"Finally," Lydia says, tugging him inside the front door. "I've been thinking about your fingers for the last week and a half."

"It's not my fault that _someone_ decided to go on a road trip," Stiles points out.

"Allison and I spent three days fucking on the beach in Los Angeles, do you expect me to apologize for that?" Lydia asks.

"Fair point," Stiles says. "Is your mom home, or do we have the place to ourselves?"

"She's at a conference today and tomorrow," Lydia says with a grin. "We have a lot of time, and we're going to make it count." She grabs his hand and pulls him through the house to her bedroom.

Lydia, more so than any of Stiles' other partners, enjoys games with her sex. She's brought out sex dice before (when he rolled them, they kept telling him to kiss her neck. After six times in a row he'd thrown them to the side and given up.) and a multitude of toys, always liking to add a new dimension to her play time. Stiles doesn't know what she has in store from them today when she lets go of his hand and twirls around to face him, her short skirt flowing around her thighs, but he knows whatever it is, he'll enjoy it. 

Lydia tugs her tank top over her head, revealing a lacy black bra, Stiles' favorite of hers. His cock, already half hard, begins to fill more at the sight of her full breasts. Her grin turns more feral as she unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the floor, showing that underneath it she's wearing a pair of red, edible panties. Stiles' eyes widen. They've talked about this a few times. Lydia liked him licking chocolate sauce off her, and they'd both enjoyed oral after eating the mints that make your mouth tingle, and edible panties had come up in the discussion for future play. 

Stiles hums, stepping forward and resting his hands on her hips, right about where the red gummy panties start. 

"You know, you don't need edible underwear to get my mouth on you," Stiles says, kissing her neck.

Lydia moans, gripping at his shoulders. 

"I know," she says, voice breathy (she always loses her focus fast when he's paying attention to her throat). "But I want to watch you eat them off me."

Stiles' hands tighten on her and she moves closer, pressing her body against his. 

"Fuck, Lydia..."

"You're wearing too many clothes," Lydia says, tugging at his belt. "Take these off and get up here."

Lydia backs up to her bed, scooting back until she's in the middle. Stiles strips quickly, not bothering with trying to be sexy about it, and crawls onto the bed after her. Lydia's shed her bra, tossing it to the side, so the only thing she has on are the edible panties covering her perfect cunt. Stiles wants to get his mouth on them, on her, but Lydia's not the only one that likes to tease. Stiles drags his lips up her inner thighs, placing light kisses to the sensitive skin and making her shiver. She has a few fading marks from Allison that Stiles kisses over. 

Stiles skips over her cunt to nip at her other thigh, sucking a mark to match the ones Allison left. He traces the edge of the panties with nimble fingers, then briefly rubs his fingers over the panties, right where her opening would be.

"Stop teasing," she says, tugging him by the hair.

Stiles chuckles but goes with it, pressing a kiss over Lydia's covered cunt, right where her clit is covered by the panties. He licks along to edge of them, at the crease of Lydia's thigh when he realizes there's really no sexy way to do this. He nibbles on the side, and the gummy material is sticky enough that he needs to tear into them to get a piece. Then it's a minute of chewing before he can move on. 

Lydia seems to have realized the same thing as him; this is going to take entirely too long. 

"Okay, new plan," Lydia says. "I'm going to take these off and you're just going to eat me out."

"I like this new plan," Stiles says.

Stiles sits up on his knees, giving Lydia room to shimmy out of the panties. There's only one problem. They won't come off. Frowning, Lydia tugs and the gummy material tears. The back falls away almost easily, but the front is stuck to her. Stiles doesn't know if it's the summer heat or what, but the gummy panties have melted a bit and all but fused to her skin.

"Uh," Stiles says. He tries to peel off the panties but the gummy material comes off in chunks, leaving a sticky residue on her skin.

"You have to kidding me," Lydia says. She flops back onto the bed and groans. "Go get a wet wash cloth."

Stiles does what she says, grabbing two from her bathroom and getting them damp under the faucet before returning. Lydia has peeled some of the gummy material off, but there are plenty of places where it's stubbornly sticking. He hands her one of the warm wash clothes and she starts scrubbing at her skin, trying to get the reside off. 

Stiles has a better angle than her farther down and start gently peeling what he can from her labia and above her mound. Lydia hisses a bit when one particular spot is tough to get off, but tells him to keep going. It takes fifteen minutes before all the bits of edible panties are off of her, a red pile of gummy material next to them on the bed. Stiles takes his wash cloth and gently runs it over her, trying to get the rest of the stickiness off. 

"This is not how today was supposed to go," Lydia says. The skin between her legs is red and irritated, though luckily her labia minora and clitoris are unaffected. 

"I know," Stiles says, kissing her inner thigh. "Can I try to make you feel better?"

Lydia huffs in annoyance, though Stiles knows it's not aimed at him, and says, "Proceed."

Stiles figures after everything, teasing her would be a huge mistake, so he just dives right in, burying his face between her legs. Lydia lets out a satisfied sigh as he licks over her clit. She still tastes like raspberry from the panties and it's a bit strange mixed with the natural taste of her, but Stiles is smart enough to keep that fact to himself. 

"You've gotten better at this," Lydia says. She aims for unaffected, but Stiles can hear the shortness of her breath and feel the way her thighs tense on either side of his head. 

Stiles doesn't remove his mouth from her, just hums, which makes Lydia twist her hand in his hair. Stiles licks and sucks at her, nudging his nose against her clit when he dips down to slide his tongue into her. Lydia whimpers, her grip on his hair nearly painful now. He doesn't make her stop, he likes it like that.

Lydia moans when he slips two fingers into her, gently massaging against her g-spot. Stiles loves how responsive Lydia is, all her little gasps and moans, the way her cunt will flutter around his fingers as he brings her closer to the cusp. When she's close, he closes his lips around her clit and sucks, coaxing out her pleasure until she's shouting, thighs clamping tight around his head. Stiles doesn't let up, easing her through it until he knows she's too close to oversensitive.

He pulls back when Lydia lets her thighs fall back to the bed, her chest heaving. Stiles crawls up the bed, lying on his side next to her. Lydia can pretend all she want, but she tends to get clingy after she comes (not that Stiles is complaining at all) and likes to cuddle her partner. Stiles is hard, always is from going down on her, but he ignores it, instead letting her roll against his side and rest her head on his chest.

She'll want to fuck later, most likely, though he's pretty sure the gummy panties mishap has put it off for a bit. It's fine, they'll have plenty of time later.


	8. Stiles/Chris/Peter and the Cramp

Having sex with Chris is awesome. Having sex with Peter is also awesome. Having sex with both of them at once is mind-blowingly good. Stiles also never thought it'd be something he'd experience. 

Stiles has known that Peter and Chris had been an item when they were younger. He hadn't known if they were dating or if it was just great sex, but he'd known they'd been something to each other. The rest of the pack seemed completely oblivious and Chris and Peter had seemed intent to keep it that way, so Stiles had said nothing.

Then they'd approached him.

They'd been waiting at Chris' house when Stiles had come by to drop off a book Chris had lent him. Peter had opened the door wearing nothing by a pair of low slung jeans, and Stiles' brain had ground to a halt. At this point he'd already slept with each of them separately, but to see Peter half-naked in Chris' doorway pretty much meant only one thing, and Stiles went from zero to hard as rocks just like that. 

Peter had smirked, leaning against the doorway in a way that for anyone else would seem casual, but Stiles knew Peter, and Peter never did anything without a purpose. The purpose this time happened to be showing off the impressive body Stiles had spent the day before licking and worshiping.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you'll catch flies with your mouth hanging open?" Peter asked, sounding entirely too amused. 

Stiles had closed his mouth with a click, unaware it had even been opened.

"Uh, I'm just here to return this," Stiles had said, holding out the book in front of him.

"Come in, then," Peter said, stepping aside. "He's in the living room."

"Uh, if you guys are busy, I can come back later?" Stiles had said uncertainly.

"As if we'd ever be too busy for you," Peter had said with a wink. 

Stiles' gulp was audible. Nevertheless, he had walked past Peter, shoulder brushing his bare chest on his way by. Chris was in the living room, lounging on the couch in nothing but his boxer briefs. He didn't look surprised to see Stiles.

"Heeey, uh, I was just bringing the book back you lent me and Peter said to come in, I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you two are, uh, doing," Stiles said. He dropped the book onto the coffee table and backed up right into Peter's bare chest.

"I think you know exactly what we're doing," Peter had purred, running his hands up Stiles' arms. 

Stiles had looked over at Chris, unsure what his reaction would be, but he was just watching them with calm interest, not anger or irritation.

"Peter wouldn't have answered if you were an interruption we minded," Chris had said. He'd stood in one fluid movement, almost as graceful as Peter, and walked forward until he was pressed against Stiles' front. It was a position Stiles was already familiar with, but he wasn't used to have Peter at his back, too. "You're welcome to go if you want. But we're hoping you'll stay."

Stiles had swallowed compulsively. Peter was hard against his ass, and Chris' own half-hard cock was pressing against Stiles' hip. Stiles had had dreams that started like this and he had to pinch himself to make sure he was awake.

"We're very real, sweetheart," Peter had murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Let us show you?"

Stiles had said yes, and hadn't regretted a damn second of it. 

Tonight's the first night he, Peter, and Chris had all been able to be in the same room since spring break, and Stiles is nearly bouncing out of his seat with excitement. As much as he would love to proceed with having his brains fucked out, Peter insists on them having an actual meal first, saying that they aren't savages. 

Peter cooks as usual, occasionally enlisting Stiles or Chris' help to chop vegetable or stir the noodles. Yes, his carbonara is incredible, but Stiles really wants to get his hands all over Peter and Chris. Whenever Stiles tries to be sneaky behind Peter's back, running his hand up Chris' thigh, Peter will turn and fix him with a glare until Stiles huffs and sits back into his chair with a pout. Peter's always been unaffected by his pout. It's completely unfair.

Dinner is delicious, as always. When they're done, Peter says he needs to do the dishes and Stiles all but growls, yanking a smirking Peter away from the sink and toward his bedroom. He knows Peter had been teasing him, not actually planning on doing their dinner dishes right away, but Stiles doesn't care that he fell for it. Chris follows them, an amused smile on his face.

"You are the worst tease," Stiles grumbles, but his complaints die on his lips as Peter tugs him in, kissing him deeply. 

Chris steps up behind him, slipping his hands up Stiles' shirt, drawing them up his abdomen to his chest, rubbing over his sensitive nipples. Stiles' breath catches in the kiss, making Peter chuckle against his lips. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We've been wanting this just as much as you," Peter says.

Stiles seriously doubts that, especially since they have each other while Stiles is away at school, but he doesn't say that. Instead, he lets them pull the clothes from him body, leaving a trail of garments to the bed until they're all gloriously naked. Peter's sucking marks into Stiles' neck and Chris is stroking light fingers up his cock, enough to make him feel it, but not enough to get him off.

"You're evil," Stiles groans. "Both of you, pure evil."

"I know," Peter says, digging his teeth a little deeper into Stiles' skin before laving his tongue over the mark. "Tell us, what do you want?"

"I need one of you to fuck me right now," Stiles says.

"So needy," Peter says. He kisses Stiles and twists his nipple, making him cry out. "We'll give you what you need. Get on your hands and knees."

Stiles rolls over quickly to obey, presenting himself to Chris and Peter. He'd cleaned himself out before he left home. Thoroughly. Just as Peter had asked. He's paying more attention to Chris, who's situating himself so that he's leaning against the headboard, Stiles' face nearly in his lap, that he's shocked when Peter presses a kiss right over his hole.

"Fuck!" Stiles says, jolting. Peter stills behind him.

Chris cards his fingers through Stiles' hair, tugging his head back to meet Chris' eyes. "Do you want him to stop?" Chris asks. 

"No," Stiles says, shaking his head quickly. "Please, no."

Peter gives a pleased rumble and licks over Stiles' hole, making Stiles whine. They've done this a few times, but Stiles always seems to forget how intense it is to have Peter's tongue circling his rim, pressing against his opening. He hadn't realized how sensitive he is until Peter's facial hair is scraping over the sensitive skin, making him whine. 

Stiles opens his eyes, not having realized he'd closed them in the first place, and sees Chris' hard cock just inches from his face. Chris isn't forcing him, happy to simply watch Peter eat him out, but Stiles wants it, wants to feel Chris in his mouth.

Chris sighs as Stiles takes his cock into his mouth, hand tightening in Stiles' hair. Stiles just hums around him, trying to focus as best he can on licking and sucking at Chris, but it's hard to focus with Peter behind him, nibbling and licking at his hole. He uses his thumbs to pull Stiles' hole as wide as he can, pressing his tongue inside and making Stiles gasp. 

Chris gently pushes Stiles' head down, slowly encouraging him to keep up the movement. Stiles wraps his hand around the base of Chris' cock, jacking him as he sucks the hard, delicious cock in his mouth. He hasn't quite gotten the hang of deep throating yet, but Chris and Peter are always happy for him to practice on them. Chris hisses as Stiles takes him as deep as he can, swallowing around him.

There's a snick behind him, the sound Stiles easily recognizes as lube being opened, and a few seconds later, Peter is sliding a slick finger into him. It's easy, Stiles having played with himself plenty earlier in the day, and soon Peter's sliding in a second, crooking them until he finds Stiles' prostate, making him groan around Chris' cock. Stiles' own cock is hanging hard and neglected between his legs, but Peter likes him like that, likes him desperate to come while he fucks him. 

Stiles groans when Peter pulls his fingers back, only to replace the with the head of his cock seconds later. Stiles pulls off of Chris' cock with a wet pop, knowing from experience that he'll be next to useless until Peter's fully inside him. Stiles rests his forehead against Chris' thigh, breathing deeply as Peter presses inside him, stretching him wide. Peter's by far the thickest cock he's ever taken and no matter how often they fuck, it still takes a moment for him to adjust to the intrusion.

"Good boy," Chris says, petting Stiles' hair. "You're such a good boy for us."

Stiles' cock jumps at that, always so responsive to praise from them. Peter pulls back slowly before thrusting in hard, making Stiles rock forward against Chris. A few more thrusts and Peter settles into a rhythm, harsh and fast. Stiles takes Chris' cock back into his mouth but there's no finesse, just sucking as Peter fucks him forward onto Chris.

Stiles loves being between them, loves the feeling of being filled at both ends. Chris is good about holding back from fucking Stiles' face, though Stiles can tell he wants to. He does tighten his grip on Stiles' hair, another thing Stiles loves. Stiles tries not to come, tries to think unsexy thoughts, because he doesn't want his release until after Chris has fucked him.

Peter's hands tighten on his hips as his thrusts speed up, a sure sign that he's close. Stiles pulls off Chris' cock to whine Peter's name. Chris keeps carding his fingers through Stiles' hair.

"Peter," Stiles gasps out. "Come on, come in me. I want everyone to smell it on me. I want everyone to know how well you fucked me."

Peter growls, nails digging into Stiles' skin. Peter's possessive like that, likes everyone knowing how much pleasure he brings all his pretty little playthings. It's a button Stiles knows to push, one that Peter loves. Peter digs his teeth into Stiles' shoulder as he brutally fucks into him. It's only a few harsh minutes before Peter's stilling, cock pulsing inside Stiles as he comes. Stiles moans and has to wrap a hand around the base of his cock to keep from coming just from that. 

Peter presses a kiss to the bite mark on Stiles' shoulder and pulls back, slipping out of Stiles' hole with a wet squelch. Stiles tries to tighten his hole, wanting to keep Peter's come from dribbling out him, but he feels so open from his thick cock that it's hard.

Chris presses a kiss to Stiles' forehead then moves to the side, stretching out on his back. He tugs Stiles to him and Stiles goes willingly, straddling Chris's waist. Peter watches with half-lidded eyes as Stiles sinks down onto Chris's hard cock, moaning loudly as he's filled. Chris isn't as thick as Peter, but he's longer and Stiles feels every inch of him, especially when he's on top.

"That's it, baby boy," Chris murmurs. "Ride me."

Stiles braces himself on Chris' chest as does as he's told, raising and lowering himself onto Chris' cock over and over again, filling him up. It makes wet, lewd noises as Peter's come slicks the way, and that's something all of them can't get enough of. 

Stiles rides Chris hard, desperate to come on his cock. Chris is as keyed up as he is, rough hands tight on his waist and he helps Stiles bounce on his dick. It's hard to focus on anything other than being filled, the deep satisfaction of being used.

"Daddy," Stiles whines, feeling his orgasm building. 

"That's it baby," Chris grunts. "Let's see you come."

Chris takes Stiles' cock in his hand and it's barely two strokes until Stiles is coming, hot and messy between them. He shudders on top of Chris, body shaking as he comes. Chris fucks up into him hard and fast, trying to come before the clenching spasms of Stiles' inner muscles stop. 

It's a few more thrusts until Chris' dick is flexing inside of Stiles, adding his come to the mess in Stiles' ass. Chris' eyes are closed, jaw clenched as he comes, and Stiles thinks he's fucking gorgeous. He leans forward to kiss Chris, and winces.

"Ow, fuck!" Stiles says.

Chris' eyes are open immediately, Peter alert at their side.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Chris asks.

"No, no, I just have a cramp," Stiles says. 

His calf is completed locked up, like it gets when he runs for too long without stretching. He tries to get up and stretch his leg out, but the cramp gets a whole lot worse and before he knows it, he's tipping to side. He sees Chris and Peter's panicked faces as he falls off the bed, then it's just blackness.

Everything swims back into focus a few moments later and Stiles can tell he hasn't been out for long, but it's long enough for Peter and Chris to be hovering over him, their faces anxious and worried. Peter's hands are on Stiles' head, ghosting over is forehead.

"I'm fine," Stiles says, flapping his hand and them and trying to sit up. Peter's growl keeps him in place.

"You hit your head and passed out, Stiles," Chris says.

"It's fine, I - ouch!" Stiles hisses as Peter's fingers brush over a spot on his the side of his head. They come back bloody.

"This isn't fine," Peter says. "We're going to the hospital."

"What? No, guys, it's a bump on the head, it's fine," Stiles says. "Head wounds always bleed more, you know this."

"This isn't a discussion," Peter says, but he does help Stiles sit up, so he takes that as a win. A small, minor win.

"Peter! I can't go to the ER with both of your come dripping out of my ass!" Stiles says.

"You have five minutes to get cleaned up and dressed, then we're leaving," Peter says firmly.

Stiles looks to Chris, pleadingly. Surely he knows how resilient humans can be, that Peter's kid gloves aren't necessary, but his face matches Peter's and Stiles knows he isn't going to win this fight.

"Fine," Stiles says. 

They help him up and he sways a little bit and okay, maybe they're not totally wrong.

Chris helps him dress and clean himself up as best he can before Peter hustles them out the door. Despite being thorough, there's still come trickling out of him as he sits in the back seat with Peter while Chris drives. Stiles is decidedly grumpy.

"You know, I've had way worse running through the preserve with the pack, right?" Stiles says.

"It's cute how you think you being regularly injured in the woods is reassuring," Peter says.

Stiles humphs and lets his head thunk against the back of the seat, wincing when that makes his headache worse. Peter wants to take his pain, but Chris had vetoed that, saying Stiles needs to be able to tell the doctor about his pain levels. Peter hadn't been happy, but he'd agreed.

Melissa isn't the ER nurse on duty, thank fuck. He really wasn't looking forward to explaining how he got injured with Chris and Peter, especially since she knows there wasn't a new supernatural threat in town. The nurse that admits him, someone relatively new that doesn't know Stiles' reputation yet, looks at his chart and frowns, then glances at Chris and Peter at Stiles' side. 

"Go ahead and fill out these forms, someone will call you as soon as they can," the nurse, the man's name tags reads 'Joe', says.

Peter takes the clipboard with a nod and they all take a seat in the waiting room. Peter fills out most of it, only needing to ask Stiles a few questions that he doesn't know. None of them are especially fans of hospitals, not with how many people they've lost, and the nogitsune, and Peter's coma years, and it shows with how stiffly they're all sitting.

"You guys can go, you know," Stiles says quietly. Chris gives him a hard look. Peter's face isn't much better. "I'm not going to sneak away, jeez. I just meant since none of us really like being in a hospital."

"We're staying," Chris says firmly.

"Suit yourself," Stiles says with a shrug, but it makes something inside him warm. 

It takes a while before another nurse calls out Stiles' name. Stiles stands and Chris and Peter try to follow, but the nurse puts up her hand to stop them.

"Just him only," the nurse says. "We'll call you back after we get some information."

Stiles is pretty sure Peter is seconds away from ripping the nurse's head off, but Chris puts a calming hand on Peter's arm.

"That's fine," Chris says. "We'll be here."

The nurse leads Stiles back to the room. She introduces herself as Bailey and takes his vitals, listens to his symptoms, and jots down a few notes on the file in front of her.

"How did the injury happen?" she asks.

"I fell," Stiles says, really not wanting to go into it.

"Looking at your file, it seems like you fall a lot," Bailey says. Stiles groans, knowing exactly where she's going with this. He hates new hospital staff. "Stiles, if someone is hurting you...if either of those men you're with did this, we help you get safe."

"My dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills," Stiles says. "If anyone was hurting me, believe me, he would be all over that." He manages not to say that Peter and Chris would probably rip whoever hurt Stiles limb from limb before the sheriff got anywhere near him. It's for the best not to scare poor nurse Bailey.

Bailey looks a little startled at the news that Stiles is related to the sheriff, but presses on regardless. "Can you tell me how you got hurt, then? The doctor may need to know."

"Oh my god, fine. It was a sex injury, okay?" Stiles says. "I was riding Chris like a maniacal cowboy, got a cramp, and fell off the bed."

Bailey turns bright red, which is novel for someone who works in the ER. "Oh, I see."

"Can you please send Peter and Chris back now? I have a smashing headache and really don't want to deal with this right now," Stiles says.

"Yes, of course," Bailey says, standing. "The doctor will be in soon."

Stiles almost feels bad for snapping as she quickly leaves the room. She's only doing her job and he knows for a fact that a lot of people that end up in the ER as frequent fliers like him do need help, but he's still entirely too cranky to be one hundred percent sorry. 

There's a knock on the door a few minutes later, then Peter and Chris are walking in. Peter looks especially testy.

"I'm guessing you heard nurse Bailey?" Stiles asks.

"Yes," Peter says. "Also, why didn't you tell us you were in the ER last April?"

Stiles groans. "What's with the invasion of privacy? Nothing to worry about, I promise," Stiles says. There's no way in hell he's telling them about the hemorrhoids he had.

Before either of them can pry, there's another knock on the door and the doctor comes in. Stiles knows her, luckily. She asks him his symptoms and nods along, then checks over the cut on his head. The nurse had already cleaned it and it isn't bleeding anymore, thankfully. 

"And how did you sustain this injury?" the doctor asks.

"Sex injury," Stiles says.

She just nods, sympathetically. Her poker face is much better than Bailey's.

"Well, it looks like you have a mild concussion, so you'll be feeling a little gross for the next couple of days. Reduce any sports, TV, video games, anything that can cause too much stimulation or strenuous activity. And yes, that means sex," she says with a wry look. "At least until your symptoms clear up."

Stiles sighs. He's had concussions before, he'd been expecting that, but it still sucks.

"Can he have painkillers?" Chris asks.

"Yes, he can have over the counter pain meds," the doctor says. "This isn't a situation where we'd prescribe something stronger."

"That's fine," Chris says.

The doctor wraps it up quickly, never once looking at Peter and Chris with the same suspicion Bailey had (thankfully) and they're ready to go. Peter takes his head immediately as they're walking and the headache Stiles has been trying to ignore fades.

"Thanks," Stiles says. 

"You're welcome," Peter says.

"So, that's two sex-related trips to the ER with Peter," Chris says as they get into the car. "That's interesting."

Peter glares from the backseat, having given Stiles the front. 

"He was on top of _you_ when he fell," Peter reminds him.

"Okay, Dr. Simms said calm and relaxing vibes, right?" Stiles says. "Slow your roll. Let's just get post-hospital ice cream and call it a day."

They all can agree to that.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


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